Depressions

This valley of two rivers stretches endlessly
In front of me. It's shallow, lifeless, even now,
As winter's giving way to spring. The fields
Are yellow still. The trees are leafless,
Swaying in a howling wind which issues
From the east. Hawks blow past unwillingly,
And, I, though stationary, share the frustration
Which they must feel. I cannot tell where
I am going, do not feel that it's my choice.
In time, the wind will die down, and the hawks
Will end up someplace in this shallow, endless
Valley. Likewise, I will come to rest
Within my lifelong trough.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 78 times
Written on 2018-03-23 at 19:33

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text